


Two Times Ryoma Wore Lavender

by SolosOrca



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolosOrca/pseuds/SolosOrca
Summary: Good things happen when Ryoma steals Tezuka's shirts.





	

The rain poured around them as they splashed through the streets.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain,” Tezuka heard Ryoma mutter as they finally made it to Tezuka’s house and sheltered under the porch whilst Tezuka fished around in his tennis bag for his keys. 

Tezuka was about to reply when he fingers hit the metal of his keys and he snatched them out.

“Your parents aren’t in?” Ryoma asked as they dashed through the door and into the hall.

“No, they went out today,” Tezuka replied.

“And you didn’t want to go with them?” Ryoma asked and even without looking Tezuka could see the smirk twitching onto his lips.

“I had plans,” Tezuka told him. “I’ll get some towels.”

He left Ryoma to strip in the hall and grabbed a towel from the cupboard. When he returned, Ryoma was just in his underwear. 

Tezuka felt his face heat up as he thrust the towel onto Ryoma. It was stupid! They’d changed together in the locker room countless times, Tezuka shouldn’t be feeling embarrassed! And the worst thing was, the absolute worst thing about this was Ryoma standing there, hand on a cocked hip, looking thoroughly self-assured despite being half-naked! That confidence just made Tezuka feel even more awkward.

Ryoma took the towel and began to dry himself off.

“You have a shower first, I’ll go find you some clothes,” Tezuka said, trying not to scurry away and give away how flustered he was feeling. He grabbed a shirt and a pair of his tennis shorts without looking at them and pressed them into Ryoma’s hands as he ushered him into the bathroom.

He didn’t allow himself to think until he’d changed into some dry clothes and put all the wet ones in the dryer. He pressed his head against the whirring machine, letting the noise fill him up and drive out any troublesome thoughts. 

It didn’t work.

The thing was, he and Ryoma -Ryoma had insisted that he call him that from now on- weren’t exactly dating.  Dating implied that a vocal agreement had been made that they were ‘together’, but nothing like that had happened. Tezuka genuinely liked Ryoma, no, he corrected himself, loved Ryoma. Judging by the signs, Ryoma felt the same way too- Tezuka was sure the other boy had never insisted on being called something (He still hadn’t corrected Tooyama from Shitenhouji on the pronunciation of his name) and sending Tezuka ‘goodnight’ messages and pictures of his cat seemed like something their other friends would mention if Ryoma sent them to them. Of course, Ryoma being Ryoma, he’d often forget to send the ‘goodnight’ texts, so Tezuka was lucky to get more than one or two a week, but when they did arrive on his phone they sent him to bed with a happy glow in his heart.

Maybe somethings would be less awkward if they’d agreed on dating. Normally it was completely fine, but then Tezuka would think about kissing Ryoma and…

He fought down the blush that was threatening to splash itself all over Tezuka’s face. He needed to calm down and then they could carry on and have an enjoyable afternoon.

“Oh, you’re in here… what are you doing?” 

Tezuka, who had been on his knees, forehead pressed against the dryer, jumped to his feet, the blush he’d been fighting so hard against creeping onto his cheeks.

And then, he got a look at Ryoma. Tezuka’s clothes were far too big for him, especially the lavender shirt -Tezuka’s favourite shirt. Ryoma had done his best, rolling up the sleeves to keep his hands free, but the shirt still swamped him.

He looked adorable.

“This shirt’s nice,” Ryoma said, for once being tactful and ignoring Tezuka’s embarrassment. “Purple’s not really my colour though.”

“It’s lavender,” Tezuka corrected him before he could stop himself.

“ _Lavender_?” That damn smirk was back on Ryoma’s face, it made Tezuka want to do… stupid things.

He stepped forward and cupped Ryoma’s face in his hands. That wiped the smirk off Ryoma’s face. He looked up at Tezuka, the confusion and shock swimming in his golden eyes clearing to be replaced with what? Amusement? Hope? Love? Tezuka’s mind was spinning too quickly to read him properly.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Tezuka said, waiting a second for Ryoma to pull away before leaning down.

“Do it then,” Ryoma muttered, leaning up to close the gap and pressing his lips against Tezuka’s.

It was warm and soft and stilted, but nice all the same. 

There was a nose print on Tezuka’s glasses when they pulled apart and they’d been knocked slightly askew, but to was definitely worth it to see Ryoma’s face- wide eyes and pink cheeked. 

“How romantic, our first kiss is in the laundry room,” Ryoma said, the smirk sliding back onto his lips. Tezuka could only sigh.

* * *

10 years later

Tezuka was making his second cup of tea when Ryoma staggered out of their bedroom, still half asleep. Tezuka picked up the tray containing Ryoma’s breakfast and put it in front of him.

“Good morning,” Tezuka said.

“Mornin’,” Ryoma replied, stifling a yawn. “Thanks.”

 Tezuka smiled and ran a hand through Ryoma’s hair. Then he noticed what Ryoma was wearing.

Normally, Ryoma slept shirtless, but this morning he was wearing one of Tezuka’s lavender shirts. It didn’t swamp him as much as when they’d been in school and looked rather tight over his shoulder. 

“Why?” Tezuka asked, plucking at the shirt.

“Got cold last night,” Ryoma replied sleepily, holding up an arm and looking at the shirt, “thought it was one of mine. Sorry.”

“Lavender still doesn’t suit you,” Tezuka said and Ryoma laughed.

“Yeah, lilac is much more your colour.”

Even half asleep and 23 years old, Ryoma was still a brat.

“It’s lavender.”

“Yes dear.” Ryoma was silent for a while as he started on his breakfast. “I look better in mauve than you do in that apron.”

Tezuka frowned. The apron in question had been a gift from Fuji and was designed to give the wearer the look of a naked man covering his privates with a hand holding two tennis balls. Tezuka hated throwing anything useful out, especially gifts, so had taken it up himself to wear it until it fell apart. Unfortunately, it was proving to be very sturdily made.

“It’s lavender,” he repeated.

Ryoma went back to eating and Tezuka busied himself doing the washing up and feeding Karupin, who had trotted out of the bedroom and started to twist around Tezuka’s feet, mewing for food.

“If I agree to call this shirt ‘lavender’, will you marry me?” Ryoma asked.

Tezuka looked up from Karupin and over to Ryoma, who was looking fixedly at his empty bowl. 

“I’ll marry you if you look me in the eyes when you ask me,” Tezuka replied. “Or were you asking your cereal?”

Ryoma laughed and -now awake enough to coordinate his legs- sauntered over and picked up Karupin. “I don’t have a ring, so the cat’ll have to do. Or… hang on!” He pressed Karupin into Tezuka’s arms and dashed off.

Tezuka shared a confused look with the cat and then Ryoma was back, grinning and hiding something behind his back.

“Kunimitsu,” Ryoma said, not getting down on one knee, “will you marry me?” from behind his back, he produced an unopened tube of tennis balls.

“Of course I will,” Tezuka replied. Karupin sensed that this must be the wrong moment to be in the way and struggled out of Tezuka’s arms. Tezuka let him go willingly and then his arms were filled with Ryoma.

They surfaced from each other’s mouths five minutes later when a crash and scream from Karupin indicated he’d knocked over the pile of books by the sofa. again.

“Get dressed, we’ve got to go to training soon,” Tezuka said, “I’ll pick up the books.”

“I might wear this all day,” Ryoma said, indicating the lavender shirt. “Good things always happen when I do.”

Tezuka raised his eyebrows, “but it’s not your colour.”


End file.
